His Dark Lord: The Conversion
by FlamesOfEbony
Summary: In the summer before his sixth year, Harry Potter is angry and isolated. After an argument with the Dursleys, he is befriended by a group of Muggles who introduce him to a new way of life. WARNING contains some Satanism


OK, before I start this I should mention that there is going to be Satanism in this fic- I don't really follow it myself but neither am I a Christian. I think Satanism is a legitimate religion that Harry might plausibly convert to. So if you're going to have problems with that, no one is making you read it. I don't know if anyone's used this idea for a story before or not, but if they have, I haven't seen it and these are my own ideas.

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**Chapter One: A New Beginning**  
  
It was Harry Potter's sixteenth birthday, and no one cared. Not even him. Ever since the events of the last year, he had lived in a half-world, blind to what went on around him. Everyday things had ceased to have any meaning for him, and he walked, ate and spoke almost mechanically, living in his own world of dreams. It was a dreary, solitary life, with no communication from his last link to happiness, the wizarding world. This situation was not self-imposed, as much as Harry preferred the solitude; Dumbledore had forbidden all contact with the wizarding world, for fear of putting Harry in danger from the Death Eaters that still roamed free. Harry felt empty, like a gaping, very empty hole had opened, chasm-like and tormenting, in his anguished soul, which still burned with the loss of his friend and guardian- Sirius Black. His absence left a space as dark as his name.  
  
At the moment, Harry lay unmoving on his bed, not thinking of anything in particular. The sound of the front door shutting, and a murmur of voices in the hall jolted him out of his blank daydream. The Dursleys had just returned from church.  
  
'Harry!' Aunt Petunia's voice screeched up the stairs, 'Come down here at once and get lunch started! Why haven't you made it already?' Harry slowly got up and trudged down the stairs, dragging his feet. He walked past the Dursleys into the kitchen, keeping his eyes on the floor rather than looking at them. Their voices grated on his ears and nerves as he began to get the plates out.  
  
They had gone into the sitting room, and the half-open door let their conversation float lightly into the kitchen where Harry could hear it. It seemed unlikely, however, from their words that they had intended this.  
  
'...And I was talking to the Reverend afterwards, Vernon, and apparently it's true that there's this, this gang of _extremely_ undesirable youths going round the town, dressed up in that silly black clothing, saying they worship...well, you know who I mean...and he's not quite sure what it is they _do_ exactly, but I'm sure it can't be anything good...I don't know _what_ their parents must be thinking...'  
  
'Their parents are most likely all drunks...or on drugs...far too much of that sort of thing nowadays. It's disgraceful. Wouldn't be surprised if these kids you're talking about were all on something or the other, too.'  
  
'Yes dear, you're probably right...Dudley darling, if you see any of these strange people around, you're not to talk to them, understand? Come _straight_ home. I don't want you getting mixed up with that kind of crowd.' Dudley grunted in reply.  
  
Harry began to set out the knives and forks, not really listening properly. Then the next part of the conversation reached him.  
  
'Oh, Vernon...that would be dreadful..._surely_ not...  
  
'Well yes, it's all part of the same kind of thing, isn't it? You know I've always had my doubts about that boy, Petunia, and if his...unnaturalness is...in that kind of area...'  
  
There was a significant pause. Harry had no doubts they were discussing him. He walked into the sitting room, and saw by the half guilty, half suspicious stares that he was right.  
  
'Lunch is ready,' he announced. 'That is unless you'd prefer to stay in here and discuss whether I've turned evil or not,' he finished in a heavily sarcastic tone of voice.  
  
'Don't you talk to me like that, boy. Show some respect,' said Uncle Vernon angrily. 'Perhaps we're right in what we were saying...especially with that peculiar school you go to... you could be learning all sorts of dark things...'  
  
Harry felt the rage build inexorably inside him. 'If you knew,' he said loudly, 'The effect real dark arts have, perhaps you wouldn't talk so freely of them!' Uncle Vernon looked outraged.  
  
'Did you hear that, Petunia? That was a threat! The cheek of it!' Harry realised what his words must have sounded like.  
  
'No- I didn't mean that-'  
  
'You can't have many friends if you threaten people like that often, boy! You haven't been getting too many letters from those owls recently, have you? I daresay you're a freak even in...that place. All your friends realised it, have they?'  
  
Harry couldn't take it any more. Letting the door slam, he stormed out of the house and into the street. At around noon, the street was empty. Harry stood for a moment, breath coming in infuriated, ragged gasps. Then he heard a voice that he would have given anything not to hear speak. Dudley had followed him out. He stood on the obsessively neat driveway, eating a packet of crisps and grinning maliciously.  
  
'My dad touched a nerve then, Potter?'  
  
'Shut up, Dudley,' said Harry quietly.  
  
'Oh, I'm scared. I know you're not allowed to use...that thing outside of school. And as for this godfather of yours we heard about...I don't think he really exists. You probably just made him up. Because you've got no friends,' concluded Dudley.  
  
Harry turned round, deliberately.  
  
'Don't you talk about him. Don't you dare say another word about him.'  
  
'Why not? Is he going to come and get me if I do?'  
  
Harry couldn't answer, what he was feeling went beyond words and straight into a seething hatred. It felt like red-hot irons were searing relentlessly across his agonised and wretched heart, the grief rushed like a coal-black waterfall. He looked up at his cousin and Dudley started at the raw distress in his viridescent eyes. Dudley's look of surprise suddenly changed to one of consternation and pain. Then, without warning, he keeled over onto the gravel path, unconscious.  
  
Harry stared, aghast. He'd lost control of his magic yet again. What if Dudley was...dead? He rushed over and found with relief Dudley was still breathing. He was about to try and wake him up when suddenly, Harry heard a voice coming from behind him.  
  
'Wow,' it said softly. 'How did you do that?'  
  
Harry wheeled round to find himself looking at the strangest boy he'd ever seen.

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Cliffhanger, I know. Don't worry, I'll have the next chapter up soon. Leave a review and tell me what you think! 


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